


Just Give Me A Reason

by bryar6



Series: Don't Ever Look Back [3]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Drabble Collection, F/M, Ficlets, Fluff, Gen, MerZouxie, The Chaos Family, character backstory, found family fluff, mentioned death, mermaid au, most will come from tumblr but I'm sticking them here, oneshots, these will loosely tie into my canon works, wings!Zoe, zouxie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27897529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bryar6/pseuds/bryar6
Summary: A selection of RP drabbles and ficlets. Just where I'll be sticking the miscellaneous things that don't have a true place to go and that I don't think should stand on their own, so the notes will have the summary info in them.Ch 1, 2 | 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11 ~ Zoe drabblesCh 3 ~ wings!Zoe fluffCh 4 ~ MerZouxie fluff (AU content)Ch 5 ~ Found family fluff w/ wings!Zoe
Relationships: Archie & Hisirdoux "Douxie" Casperan & Nari & Zoe, Hisirdoux "Douxie" Casperan/Zoe, Zoe & Isabel(OC)
Series: Don't Ever Look Back [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028529
Comments: 33
Kudos: 14





	1. When the evening falls

**Author's Note:**

> (Shuffle prompt drabble, choose your favorite line)
> 
> Happier -- Marshmello, Bastille 
> 
> “I think that we both know the way that this story ends”

There are no happy endings. 

Nearly a millennia on this accursed planet has taught Zoe that in the most brutal ways, inflicting levels of pain most people could never bear. You can’t beg for a better past, only pray for an easier future. 

Isabel had kept altars for all the time Zoe had known her. She didn’t see or understand why, because the gods don’t listen to you anyways, not in Zoe’s bitter experience. 

But the day Isabel passed, Zoe constructed her first altar. 

And she prayed to those gods who never listened to her. And she has ever since.


	2. Don't let me drown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Shuffle drabble prompt, choose favorite line)
> 
> Drown -- Seafret 
> 
> “'Cause you know that I can't do this on my own”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allusion to & minor description of PTSD/triggers, aquaphobia, check out A Sinking Memory for context.

The thin showercurtain trembles in Zoe’s grasp. 

It’s been an awful day. Rude customers, out of energy drinks, and a full-day shift. She stands, in a bathrobe wrapped tightly about herself, peering at an inviting tub of hot water. 

The sight of it alone sets her heart to slamming erratically in her ribcage. She slumps against the wall and slips to the floor, bile rising and breath coming hard. She tugs her phone down from the counter and presses it to her ear, eyes closing. 

_“Hey, love. You alright?”_

“No.” 

When he arrives, she sinks into his arms and sobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((this one HURT and so I decided that there is going to be a more angsty piece coming that expands on this))


	3. Good Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote pointless wings!Zoe fluff because I could and it honestly has nowhere better to go. Also, there isn't even a smidge of angst, be proud of me lol. Just found family hug fluff because yes. Everyone gets snuggles and is happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for literally just giving up on the titling here, but it's the OneRepublic song I was listening to when I started writing this and it's all that came to mind. Also, this falls into the Saudade timeline somewhere, they're in NYC still, but don't worry too hard about it because it's not necessary whatsoever. If you haven't read Sauade, it's literally just my post-Wizard's continuation and Zoe is there and got wings now because I say so. Enjoy, lol.

Zoe lays with her wings in the sun, slightly parted to catch the rays. It’s comfortable and warm and relaxing. She rests her head against her arm, eyes closed, focusing on just breathing. And for a while, it’s the easiest damn thing. She lets the wings stretch a bit more, one hanging over the back of the couch and the other with talons against the floor. 

“Someone’s awful comfortable.” 

She makes a sound of satisfied agreement, readjusting reluctantly. Douxie settles onto the couch by her feet and she rests her legs back down, over his lap, grinning. “Someone else is up early,” she says, voice muffled by the cushions. 

“Yeah, not sure what it was, just felt like that kind of day, I guess,” he enunciates with a yawn. A hand comes down to stroke one of her wings, fingers gently running between individual feathers. She says nothing in response, just shifts herself into a slightly more comfortable position and flexes the wing stretched out on the floor. “Not enough space in here for you, huh?” 

Zoe grunts, turning her head to watch as she fully extends the wing. At approximately two thirds of the way open, the flight feathers touch the far wall. “Nope.” She tucks the wings back in, closing them tightly and rolling onto her side. “C’mere.” 

Douxie grins and nestles into the space between her and the back of the couch, wrapping his arms around her, hands finding the softest feathers between her shoulder blades. She rolls her eyes but smiles, pressing her forehead to his. He closes his eyes and for a moment she studies his features, the light freckles across the high points of his face, a couple very light scars here and there, the way his dyed hair hangs messily across his face. Zoe gently drapes a wing over him and closes her eyes too, listening to his breathing and the quiet hum of the apartment for a long few moments. 

“What’re you thinking?” he mumbles, voice soft. She pauses a response, taking a moment to savor the feeling of the sunlight warming her back and the comfort of his hand gently running through the downy feathers. She sinks forward into him a little more, nose brushing his. 

“Mm, not much.” It’s not really a lie. She’s mostly just focused on this moment here and now, comfortably relaxed and warm and happy. Everything she could want. “And you?” 

Douxie makes a small sound of contentment. He says something that sounds a lot like a jumbled version of “I don’t know,” followed quickly by, “ ’M happy.” 

“I’m glad.” He tugs her closer, resting his chin against her head. She presses into his shoulder, one hand finding his and tangling her fingers in his. She breathes in deeply, enjoying his familiar smell. “I’m happy, too.” 

She finds her eyes drooping, and slowly dozes off in the cozy embrace. 

***********

Douxie can tell by the way her muscles have loosened in her shoulders that Zoe is napping. He doesn’t dare get up, not that he would really want to, anyways. It’s rare that Zoe is this mellow about anything, and he guesses a lot of it could be credited to just the right circumstances. Her wings rise and fall with her breathing, the light brush of feathers tickling the backs of his arms. 

He continues to stroke the downy feathers, both because they’re delightfully soft, and also because—though she won’t admit it—she loves the feeling and it has a nice side effect of calming her. He might not be as used to it as he is to running his fingers through her hair, but the sensation is slowly getting there and it’s probably as calming for him. 

A somewhat funny thought crosses his mind, the notion that even a year ago how different things would have been. It’s possible they could have been found close, probably not this close, but he can recall a few particularly cold nights on traveling where shared heat was necessary. But he could have never dreamt things would get to where they are now, or that so much could have changed for them. And for the better, in his opinion. 

Archie pads into the room, only pausing to give Douxie a silent slow-blink, which of course the wizard returns, and continues on a path for his food bowl that Douxie had filled before the kettle had even come off the stove. A few minutes of crunching later, Archie meanders his way over to the couch and balances precariously on its arm. 

“How is she?” the familiar asks casually, lifting a paw and passing it over his ears. Douxie has to crane slightly to meet his eyes from this angle. 

“Good, I think. She’s just been resting, enjoying the sun,” he answers, voice barely at a whisper. She sleeps soundly for the most part, seemingly even better when he’s around, and he can’t blame her. Same goes for him with Archie or Zoe nearby. Something about that human pack-bonding mentality that had sunk its teeth in centuries back and never let go. 

Archie smiles softly. “Is there room for one more?” Douxie makes a slightly disgruntled noise, eyes narrowing at the nonplussed cat. A very quiet purr emanates from the cat’s small chest, and once again, he slow-blinks. Douxie sighs. 

“Fine, just don’t step on her, please,” he concedes, lifting an arm and letting Archie slip between both mages. Archie settles down with his back against Douxie’s stomach and he can physically feel the satisfied purrs. Douxie almost rolls his eyes, but instead he closes them, and his hand slips from Zoe’s shoulders and to Archie’s flank. 

It’s not long before there’s a soft tap at his arm and he finds Nari peering down at him. 

“Hey, bug, what’s up?” He very quietly clears his throat, and gives her a smile that’s slightly inhibited by the brush of Zoe’s wing against his cheek. 

“Might I join you?” she mumbles, a hand gesturing to the tangled pile of them all laying together. Douxie refrains from a sigh and weighs his options here. There’s just about no way he’s going to wake Zoe, lest he face some rather unwanted consequences. Buuuuut....

“Arch,” he says, voice low and sing-songy. “Get up for a minute. Nari wants in.” 

His familiar grunts and squeezes up onto Douxie’s arm and back, and promptly settles in the tiny space left between his shoulders and the couch. Nari smiles widely, and burrows her way into the spot where Archie had been, wrapping her own blanket around her. Zoe’s wings twitch and she shifts to resettle, but she remains definitely asleep, a great relief to Douxie. 

The warmth from all of them crowded together is wonderfully comfortable and relaxing. Each of their magical signatures are almost surprisingly void of worries and concerns or fears or anything of the like. Nari is soon resting, and he knows that Archie is definitely asleep, his purr settling to a low hum that feels like it’s coming from Douxie’s own chest. He would think, tangled up in all this, that maybe he’d feel a bit cramped for space but there’s nothing but a sound closeness. His own little family, all here and happy and _his_. And he loves them with an almost uncharacteristic fierceness. 

Douxie grins. He has no idea how he’ll explain all this to Zoe when she wakes up. His eyes drift shut and he falls into a blissful rest.


	4. Come What May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So my good friend @nikibogwater on tumblr & Ao3 came up with a Mermaid AU and after a while I was tasked with writing the MerZouxie first kiss and so here it is, in all it's sappy glory. 
> 
> If you're interested, head over to [this post](https://nikibogwater.tumblr.com/post/639683227164065792/a-brief-rundown-of-the-merdouxie-au-that-i) and find out some more about what we're up to with this AU lol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (also title yoinked from the song, particularly feeling the Moulin Rouge! version of it. (I was having other AU thoughts shhhh))

Miniature dunes are formed by the beach and the last light of the day throwing long shadows over the warm sand. Waves lick at rocks and the shoreline, lapping up over his tail and against Zoe’s feet every few seconds, steady and soothing. Douxie lays with his head against Zoe’s shoulder, one of her wings draped gently over his and their backs to the beach.

“This is nice,” Douxie whispers, nuzzling into the space under her chin and between her shoulder. 

“Mhmm,” she responds, one hand tangling itself in his. Her eyes remain on the giant, fluffy clouds overhead and for a moment he wonders what it would be like to fly on one’s own, or if she’s thinking about that. Maybe eventually he’ll see about asking her to show him what it’s like. Not that Archie couldn’t do it, but something tells him it would be a good deal more fun with her. 

He raises their entwined hands to the sky, pointing with a finger. “I think that cloud looks like Archie,” he says, and then drags their hands to aim at a different congregation of pink cotton hanging high above. “And that one looks like you.” 

“Oh, you!” Zoe snorts and playfully shoves at his side and bats him with her other wing, not bothering to conceal her grin. It’s contagious, and soon enough he’s wearing his own smug look. 

He draws an arm around her waist, pulling her closer and settling his forehead against hers. He could swear she’s blushing softly, though the light of the sunset is certainly emboldening her bronze feathers, casting a gentle glow on her features. He raises a hand to gently cup her cheek, moving slowly and watching for any hesitation or resistance on her part. She instead leans into his touch with eyes fluttering shut and he can feel the smile growing on her face. 

With his heart pounding apprehensively in his chest, he tips forward, ever closer, his nose brushing along hers as he shifts, lips only a tiny space apart. Her breath is hot on his cheek and he resists a shiver. This closeness isn’t foreign, but gods, he’ll never be over how much he enjoys her warmth. It practically radiates off her like she’s her own little version of the sun, and he loves it. _As much as I love her,_ dare he think. It’s a bold, brash thought, and yet, it’s utterly and wholly true. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to slip into this comfortable space with her. 

Something stops him from closing the distance, though. He feels like he can hear his heartbeat, drowning out the waves and the birds calling overhead, so impossibly loud. He wants nothing more than to discover what her perfect lips must feel like, and yet, he holds back. He doesn’t want to pressure, and he won’t, no matter what he wants. 

Luckily, he’s not waiting long before she makes the decision for him. Her hand has found its way to the base of his neck, pulling him forward and her lips sink into his, softly and firmly. They’re every bit as inviting and warm as he’d imagined. That odd aching in his chest turns to a strange swell and it’s a moment before he can even register just what’s happened even though he’d practically initiated. When he does make that solid connection, it’s like a bolt of lightning up his spine. A tingling shock, kind of, but a pleasant one all the same. 

_Lightning magics, hm?_ he thinks with bemusement, before the feeling of her other hand weaving into his hair brings him back to the moment, gentle chills at the touch. One hand shifts and runs through the downy feathers between her shoulder blades, the other with a thumb brushing her freckled cheek. He allows himself to forget everything else but her lips delicately capturing his. 

And it’s such a perfect moment. 

She finally breaks the kiss and immediately he tugs her to his chest, burying his face in her feathery hair with a satisfied sigh. She laughs lightly and he wonders for a moment if she can feel the happy hum in his chest, akin to an aquatic purr. He presses a very light kiss to the top of her head, that exhilarating feeling still burning in his chest. 

“Still think that cloud must have been modeled after you by the gods,” he muses, watching her face as she rolls her eyes dramatically. 

“Stop with all the sap,” she says, with eyes shining and prods his side. 

“Make me, then,” he dares, the smirk ever-growing. 

He makes a small sound of surprise as he finds her lips back on his. _Well, that’s certainly one way, and effective…_ He’s far more than happy to reciprocate. 

The lingering warmth of the beach and each other’s closeness keeps the chill away as the sun sets in shades of pink and gold and orange, but they don’t see it, lost in the embrace that the world conspired to deny them, eyes shut in happy defiance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*Buries my face in my hands*_
> 
> Well this is the sappiest and most self-indulgent thing I've probably ever posted here so I hope you enjoyed lol


	5. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Found family fluff and a smidge of comfort for preexisting hurt. The scene immediately after Douxie, Zoe, and Archie arrive home after [ Chapter 15](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26647771/chapters/68502683#workskin) of _Saudade_. Context probably very helpful but I suppose not necessary. Is not necessary to the plot of _Saudade_ , either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because this is a series and I cannot gift chapters, I will say here, this was written as a gift to Niki, Queen of the Magical Siblings and the one who has been asking for a Nari forehead kiss for a while now, and thus it was done. Give a listen to "Home" by Phillip Phillips with this one. 
> 
> Note: Not edited. I am sick of edits right now. If you see problems, no you don't. <3

Douxie really can’t recall a time that Zoe’s ever seemed this out of sorts. She’s obviously exhausted and the wings have ruined her sense of balance. She’s using the rather dangerous looking spear- actually, atgeir, Archie had corrected -as a walking stick. He gently plucks it from her grasp and rests it against the coat rack and guides her to the bathroom. 

Nari follows them wordlessly, eyes wide in amazement at the sight of the elegant wings. Zoe seats herself on the edge of the bathtub, resting her head in her hands and mumbles something incoherent. 

Douxie wets a washcloth and sets to working at getting the grime off her arms, finding a number of cuts and scrapes that hadn’t been there before. Zoe lets it happen, now leaning her forehead against his shoulder. A flash of a green hand catches his eye, and he notices Nari beside him now, with her own cloth, gently dabbing at a bloody spot on Zoe’s knee. 

“Oh, Nari, you don’t have to…” he starts, but Nari shakes her head, diligently copying his motions. He smiles, grateful to have her with them, even if it means the world is rather crazy and chaotic at times and their lives are very rarely peaceful. Douxie notices how Zoe’s wings slip down, hanging off her back and resting against the edge of the tub. 

He doesn’t know how wings work on a human. And they don’t know if they’re permanent, or magic, or if there’s now something newer up with her. And it deeply concerns and worries him. Then again, what doesn’t at this point? Their whole little world is wrapped up in this massive city, and it’s so hard to know what move is the right one, and which step might cost them their lives.

“Stop worrying, you’re making my head hurt,” Zoe mutters, pressing her cold nose up against his neck. He shivers. 

“Sorry.” Douxie draws back for a moment, reluctant to pull away when it seems that Zoe is sort of comfortable how she is. He looks over to Nari, whose face is scrunched up in concentration, a pale green magic crossing over the cleaned wounds on Zoe’s hand and arm. “You don’t need to use your magic on her, she’ll heal fast enough.”

“She is in pain, Douxie, and I wish to help,” Nari argues, moving onto another cut and running a finger over it slowly. Zoe’s flesh mends together behind her touch. Douxie tentatively lets himself feel for Zoe’s magic, relieved to find that it’s tame and as familiar as always. Not that it should have been anything else, he was just...afraid it wouldn’t be her. A very irrational fear. 

“Please stay out of my head,” Zoe says quietly, not annoyed, maybe mildly upset. 

“I’m not doing anything, just, you know. Checking.” They spend the next long moments in quiet, Douxie working at cleaning and dressing what small wounds he can, using touches of minor healing magic on the small cuts and Nari addressing some of the worse cuts. 

“Douxie, I am going to rest now,” Nari says, touching his forearm and smiling. Indeed, small bags have begun to form underneath her eyes. She must have stayed awake waiting for them this whole time and his chest twinges. There’s no doubt that she’s on their side through thick and thin and he’d be more than willing to fight to prove this true. 

“Course, bug.” Douxie watches her go, but it doesn’t feel like enough. He turns to Zoe. “Will you be alright to wait here a moment?” 

Zoe nods wearily. “Goodnight, Nari,” she calls as Nari disappears from view. Douxie follows the little demigoddess to their bedroom. 

“Hey,” he says, holding his arms out to her for a hug before she can tuck into her nest. Archie opens an eye and watches them for a moment before resettling his head and contently purring away. Nari tips her head and gives him a questioning look, but hugs him right back, mindful of her horns. He holds her at arm's length after a moment, glancing over her shoulder. “I need to ask you something.” 

Nari watches his face with her burning golden eyes and he can tell she’s just waiting for him to speak, though she doesn’t prompt him. 

“Is Zoe alright? I just can’t tell if there’s something up with her, and I’m worried now, there’s just a lot going on and I don’t know what to do. And is the Order still trying to dreamwalk with you? Because if so, I’ll, I don’t know, I’ll find something, to help, we’ll figure it out.” 

Nari’s face settles into a soft smile. “It is okay. Zoe is fine. I simply used a healing magic on her to help with the process of recovery. And no, not since the first time. We are both fine. You are afraid,” she whispers, touching a hand to his temple. He leans into it, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Yeah, just a bit. Try not to let my anxiety get through to you,” he says apologetically. Her face scrunches in apparent confusion. 

“Do not worry, it is not.” Nari lifts her other hand and takes his face delicately in his hands, tipping his chin up and studying a scratch. “May I use my magic on you?” 

Douxie immediately goes to protest...and stops. She hadn’t used it all day, and they’re safe in the wards of the apartment. There’s no possible harm that could be done, and from her voice, it’s clear she’s trying to impart a calm air on him either way. And he could use it. 

“You know, yeah. Yeah, that’s alright.” He smiles, and closes his eyes as her magic gently pours over him. It’s like the sensation of settling down to sleep, without the drowsiness. It’s peaceful and warm and comfortable and he immediately feels so much better, and he guesses that the scratches have faded, too. After a few seconds, her soft hands drop away and he looks back up to her in awe. “Thank you, Nari. That was really nice.” 

Nari’s smile widens and she leans forward to press her forehead against his; something she’s adopted from himself and Archie, and it’s a welcome way to wordlessly express their bond. “Go back to Zoe,” she instructs, waving a hand. He laughs under his breath.

“Yes, yes, I will. Alright. Now you sleep well,” he says, drawing the blanket over her shoulders as she curls into her little corner, wrapping herself around Archie. She makes a contented sound and closes her eyes. He goes to leave and stops, leaning forward and pressing a quick, light kiss to her forehead. If possible at all, her face softens and her smile returns, looking as relaxed and calm as he feels. His heart warms with that fondness he’s come to recognize as affection for his little collected family. “G’night.” 

Nari mumbles something similar in return and he quietly closes the door behind him, the smile staying stuck on his face long afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang in there with me, I will be back to actual updates of chaptered stuff I would like to say soon, but sadly I can't guarantee anything because of life and the Project (editing is giving me hell atm, I have never edited anything so heavily as this, and I think I'm on, what, version 4? 5? by now? We're getting there but hoooo boy.). Enjoy this snippet in the meantime.


	6. Lilacs and Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ✍ - a memory of their mother
> 
> Fluff with young Zoe and her mother and where her fondness for lilacs came from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not quite a drabble but close.

“What about these flowers, Mama?” 

Zoe holds the plucked head of sweet blooms in her outstretched hands, offering it for identification. Her mother shakes her head and leans in to smell them, a warm smile growing on her face, eyes closing for a moment in bliss. 

“They’re lilacs, little dove. They are Mama’s favorite.” 

She clutches the flowers close to her chest, the scent filling her nose in a nearly overpowering manner, but delightful all the same. She brushes small fingers over the individual flowers, staring at their beautiful pink petals. 

“Then they’re my favorite, too.” 

Her mother’s smile widens, her expression so impossibly comforting and happy that Zoe can do nothing but throw her little arms around her. She breaks a smaller piece of the lilacs off and presses it into Mama’s calloused hands. 

Her mother grins and accepts the gift, admiring it shortly before tucking it behind Zoe’s ear. “There. A wonderful flower for my dear heart.” 

Zoe giggles as her mother places a quick kiss to her nose and hoists her daughter onto her hip. 

“I love you,” Zoe whispers, her fingers tangling in her mother’s hair and the lilacs jostling in her grip. 

“And I, you,” Mama answers, humming softly as they make their way back through the field, gentle morning sun warming their shoulders.


	7. Killahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ✈ - an eye-opening memory
> 
> Zoe's first experience with war was Killahead, when she inadvertently stumbled into the battlefield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentioned human death, war, mentioned animal death

Zoe had never seen war before. 

She’d been regaled with all number of tales about it; the grandeur, the glory, valiant and courageous fighters riding magnificent steeds across the battlefield to the music of clanging steel. 

But before her was a scene completely unlike anything she’d ever seen or heard of. 

War is not grand or glorious. It is bloody and hellish. Blades colliding with all of one’s force do not produce musical notes and the horses screamed as they were spurred onto the spears of the enemy. 

At first, she stood in a stunned shock at the top of the hill, wand clutched between white knuckles. It was so loud and the air buzzed with energies. She couldn’t believe the sight before her as the sun sunk into shadows and the trolls burst forth with blades and spears of black and green stone twice as tall as herself. Arthur’s knights on the other side fell into darkness and cheered as they galloped into the field. 

And then there was death and destruction and it was not war as she knew it. 

She watched, frozen where she stood, as a troll with massive horns lifted a knight into the air and crushed him in a single gargantuan hand, with complete and utter ease. And he laughed. A deep, guttural laugh she’d never forget. 

The troll leader’s gaze skimmed over the battlefield, and within the span of a couple skipped heartbeats, his fiery blue eyes were locked onto her. She threw her hood up and vanished into the forest, the sounds of dying, yelling men and a cacophony of scraping metal assaulting her ears as she fled. The thicket lashed out in return, as though punishing her for running when others were falling unaided. But she continued until there was a hard road beneath her feet and quiet woods. 

Zoe had never known war before. And she never wanted to see it again.


	8. And picked the daisies fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ♘ - a memory of their sibling(s)
> 
> Tenyism comin atcha!! If you know this reference, massive kudos to you! (looking at a couple of you in particular who I believe are wise to it…) Spoiler alert: it’s from an AMA in a ToA discord server. Tell me in the comments if you got it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mention of a child's death

Zoe has never felt quite this way before. It’s strange, a heavy, melancholy feeling that wraps around her and worms under her skin and makes her want to cry and bury her nose into Papa’s shoulder. But it would be to cry out of sublime sorrow, not physical pain as she is familiar with, and this her young mind cannot come to comprehend. 

The cheeks of her little sister had been so pink, so full of life. She had laughed at such an early age and grinned with a smile like the sun. Mama and Papa cried as they held her, a happy, beautiful daughter. Zoe watched from a distance, Liam chewing on the edge of her dress preventing her from joining their parents. She did not understand it so well, but she felt a pull, a love for her sister even though she’d just been born, a determination to fiercely protect the baby. 

And now her little sister is cold and still and bundled into the best blanket and they are standing outside and saying final, tearful farewells. A week had passed and everything changed. It is winter, and too cold for a baby. The humors were unbalanced. Neither Mama nor Papa could find a remedy. Her cheeks lost their color until there was none left. 

Liam clutches her dress again, too young to understand, but sad because his family is also sad. He cries and his little fists come down against Zoe’s arms but she does not feel it in the chill. She tugs him closer and softly tells him, “ _Shhh_.” Her family stands in silence and the noise of trees knocking together are all she hears besides her brother’s hiccups. 

Years later, Zoe likens the pink glow of magic in her palms to the soft, happy hum of her sister’s cheeks. The realization came after an afternoon spent playing in the snow, the magic in her hands drawn up to warm Liam’s frozen face. It gives her this twisted feeling in her stomach of what she’s come to know as sorrow, an aching missing feeling she can’t place.

Ever since, the color is happy, alive, and it’s like a baby’s laughter. And she loves the color like she loves the sister she was never able to know.


	9. Summertime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ♬ - a friend/best friend memory
> 
> Fun fact! Twizzlers have been around since 1845, but the classic ones were made in 1929.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy platonic Zouxie in the '30s for you all ft. Douxie with his first acoustic and the first Twizzlers incident. 
> 
> (title yoinked from "Summertime" by Billie Holiday, a rather fun '30s song I ran into while listening to 30s music and writing this lol.)

Douxie hadn’t heard her enter the apartment and she stands in the doorway now, leaning on the frame and listening. His fingers pluck away at guitar strings and his eyes are shut, hands moving on instinct. 

He’s had this instrument for about a month and he’d taken to it like a fish to water. Of course, there had been adjustments to the number of strings and the position in which one holds it, but as soon as the acoustic was in his arms, he simply looked like a missing puzzle piece had been set into place and he’d not been able to wipe the stupid grin from his face for days. 

He’d been like this, at least according to Archie, for every new instrument he got his hands on over the years. She remembers the original lute with which he’d terrorized Merlin, eventually the gittern, then the rougher flamenco guitar, and the early romantic guitar in the 1800s, and now his first acoustic, being picked up by popular musicians everywhere. You can’t listen to the radio without encountering the gentle strum somewhere in the song currently playing. 

She attempts to discern the words he mouths, but from her angle it’s hard to tell, and whatever he’s playing is certainly nothing she’s ever heard before. Granted, he’s always had a habit of working on his own music and lyrics, so it could be that she simply doesn’t know it. 

Something about the way he plays tugs her own heartstrings. Whatever it is, he puts his full heart into. It’s soft and nostalgic and she feels like she knows it, despite it clearly being unfamiliar. He rocks slightly to his own beat, a smile coming across his face and he just looks so at peace. She closes her eyes and listens to the notes, letting them soothe her into a quiet state of remembrance. 

It feels like soft summer winds and like the taste of warm grapes fresh from vineyards, like cool mountain streams and fields of tall grasses, the sound of crickets in the evening, and it sounds almost like home within the notes. She’s never experienced music like this before. 

“Zoe!” The music cuts suddenly. 

She snaps back to attention with a jolt and trips over her feet, stumbling uneasily before catching herself. 

“Jeez, no need to shout. And yeah, that’s my name, don’t go wearing it out,” she says with a scoff, now shutting the door behind her and crossing the floor. “What were you playing?” 

“Honestly, no idea. I was just playing. Someone looked like they thought it was nice,” he teases, flashing his trademark smirk and raising his eyebrows. She rolls her eyes. 

“Stop that,” she says, waving a hand and perching on the armchair, eyes tracking over the well-loved instrument. It’s scratched in places, but clearly Douxie cares not. 

“What’ve you got?” he asks, pointing his chin to the tan box in her hands. There’s a clear streak of curiosity in his eyes and his fingers skip over chords as he waits for her answer. 

“Twizzlers, they’re a new candy and thought I’d try them, seeing as how licorice is pretty good thought these might be half-way decent.” She breaks into the box and pulls out one of the long candies and chews on it. After a couple moments, she shrugs. 

“May I?” he asks, setting the guitar pick down and shifting the instrument to rest on the sofa beside him. 

She sighs in mock annoyance and extends the box. “Fine. But remember that I paid for them.” 

It’s only a couple bites later that the two of them are tussling over the box, melodious laughter filling the small apartment intertwined with joking insults and curses.


	10. So dawn goes down to day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ☤ - a memory of death/loss
> 
> Zoe has loved and lost many times. Kind of like a proper expansion on the earlier drabble regarding Isabel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from the rather fitting "Nothing Gold Can Stay" by Robert Frost. (shhhh don't say _Outsiders_ I know it because he was local to my hometown area not because of that book lol)
> 
> Warning: mention of death.

“I’ve returned, Bel!” 

Zoe laughs a little breathlessly, hanging her cloak on the rack near the wall and patting down her messy hair. Nothing like a riding lesson with Archie and Douxie in the fields to make the day a little more eventful, and thanks to Archie’s quick thinking, she’d managed to get away mostly unscathed. She’d taken one tumble over his neck when he stopped short to avoid a rock, but other than that she is really beginning to learn and there is nothing quite like the freedom she finds with them. 

“Isabel! Would you like me to start the stew?” 

She rubs at a spot on her cheek, guessing there’s dirt by the sensation, grimacing at the thought of the little old lady harshly scrubbing it off as she often would. When there’s no response, she rolls her eyes. _Old person hearing. Or she’s resting._ Instead of searching, she grabs the hanging bird and brings it to the table to begin to piece apart, throwing chunks into the simmering pot. She hums a quiet melody to herself, one that she may have picked up from whatever Douxie had been working on last. As much as she denies giving her opinion, it’s decent sound and maybe one day he’ll get somewhere with it. 

The night settles into the streets, the passing of link-boys and those they are guiding are the only source of light entering the shop’s front windows. She lights some large candles with pops of pink magic to dispel the lengthening shadows. Zoe finishes her task and stirs the pot and adds some thyme for good measure before picking up and moving to the wash basin in the back. 

“Bel? Are you even in here? It’s getting late,” Zoe calls, raising her voice in hopes it’ll carry better through the small building. Still no answer comes back and her brow furrows. Not unusual for Isabel to sleep for extended periods, and the woman is getting well into her years. A gentle reminder is all that will be needed, then. 

Zoe gathers her skirt and begins up the somewhat treacherous stairs to the drafty second floor. “I do not wish to wake you,” she whispers, pushing open the old witch’s door. “But supper will be ready soon if you’re interested.” 

She’s immediately struck with the feeling that something is amiss. The window is open and the night streams in with a slight nip, silvery moonlight settling into Isabel’s ornate rocking chair. It’s then she notices the ash piled in the seat of the chair, a purple book peeking out from underneath. 

“No…” she breathes, hand falling away from the doorknob and against her side, the spoon in her other dropping to the floor with a loud clatter. “No, no no no.” 

The tears prick her eyes and she clenches her jaw fiercely, crossing in unbalanced steps. “Isabel! You can’t go…”

Zoe lifts a fistful of the ash, watching it fall through her fingers and back to the book. The tears come in earnest now, streaming down her cheeks and soaking the neck of her blouse. She brushes the ash away and gingerly takes the book, holding it close to her chest and sinking to the floor. 

_This can’t be happening it’s not happening this is just some stupid illusion. No no no no I can’t lose her. Not like this. It’s not supposed to happen like this. I can’t lose anyone else._

The wind picks up and the ash begins to flutter away. Zoe grabs a handful before it disappears, lifting it and mumbling a quick spell under her breath. Instead of ash, she now holds a small crystal, heavy and swirling with glints of purple inside it’s black depths. She presses the crystal to her forehead, sobs cutting off her desperate pleas. 

No matter how much Zoe knew this was coming one day, it hurts no less to lose the woman she loved like a second mother. 

Hours pass and she realizes her tears have dried and her head throbs with a gentle ache. She moves to close the window before the room gets any colder, but pauses over Isabel’s altar. She’d never finished the ritual tonight, by the looks of it. 

Zoe lingers, setting the crystal and grimoire down and rearranges the various herbs and stones. She moves the candles, too, as though some invisible strings are tugging her, like she’s done this every single day of her life, despite never having touched an altar before, much less setting one up. 

A couple minutes later, she places a dried, purple chrysanthemum long since plucked from the garden in the very center and steps away to admire her work. It’s a sad thing, she thinks, that this will have to do in place of a proper funeral. No body to prepare for ritual, and no family or friends to come together. Besides Zoe, of course. 

_Which means I have to do this for her._

She sucks in a breath, the words coming to her tongue as she reaches out to light the candles. Her fingers brush over each as she speaks.

“I bid you well on your travels. That the clouds part way for your passage. That your death was good and kind. That you may rest at last. I bid you farewell.” _Please, gods, spirits. Tell her I love her._

The last, central candle bursts into glowing flame and she steps back, settling into the now empty rocking chair. A pressure like a gentle hand settles on Zoe’s shoulder and she smiles warmly. 

“Thank you, Bel.”


	11. Seaglass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ♣ - a fading memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mild description of death/murder.

Zoe’s done her best to forget. It’s not the moment, the image itself, that she wishes would leave her mind. She has no real issue with that, having seen her share of the world over the course of nine hundred years and then some. 

No, this memory is fuzzy around the edges because she deliberately has made it so, like one rubs a damp thumb over graphite to smudge, blurring the hard lines and softening the design. The purpose is not to make the artwork more comprehensible, but instead easier on the eye. 

It’s the emotions, cutting sharply into her very being, flaying her raw and exposed to herself in a manner she does not want to see, that jut out like shards of glass into her consciousness. But over time, gently and steadily like the sea and the shore’s pebbles, the edges were worn and smoothed to rounded, dullened sides. 

You’d think the memory of taking your very first life would be unforgettable. 

And yet, over the centuries, it’s less and less emboldened in her mind. Not because she’s become desensitized; probably the opposite, if anything. Media and society don’t see death and loss the same anymore and it’s imprinted on her in strange ways. A good horror flick makes her more emotional than even some of the better-written romances. Because life is about loss more often than it’s about love. 

She can’t recall who moved first. Two daggers drawn on each other, flashes of lightning curled into her empty palm, glimmers of silver and pink in the night. A dive for each other on muffled feet, her twist in close unexpectedly, the attacker’s knife slipping harmlessly against her cloak and her own weapon—

—connecting solidly with flesh and halting at bone, wet warmth spreading over her gloved hand. It was not a kind blow, and she is merciful for that mistake. Her hand laid flat to the chest above the heart even though she was not aware at the time, releasing a lethal charge of electricity. 

And it’s over. 

Silent, still. 

Crickets trill in the grasses again, some owl calling far beyond. Trees shake and rattle against each other’s branches in apprehension, the field quivering in time to the wind. Everything whispers knowingly. 

Minutes pass before she realizes just what she’s done, staggering away and cursing the pungent stain. She doesn’t feel ill, or upset, or even bad. Actions have their consequences and both went into this knowing what the end result for at least one of them would be, if not the both. She hadn’t given death a second thought even though the chance of it at her own throat was higher than she’d care to acknowledge. 

It was her or the enemy. One life, for another. It’s the way of survival, this she knows. The world isn’t kind to her and it’s even less so to some others. At least she’s here and still breathing, a miracle each new day with what trials she’s faced and yet to endure. 

Zoe’s been afraid of her powers and ability before. Her magic has always had the potential for deadly effects. But she’s never been afraid of what she’s capable of til this day. She isn’t surprised that she had it in her to commit such an act. Not surprised that she’d do it again. Merely being capable of this alone is enough to chill her, though. 

But the memory is faded and ebbs yet. She can’t remember if she killed a man or a woman, not that it matters, or what even the sudden fight had even been over. She doesn’t want to think of herself as _dangerous._ Because then it turns her into nothing more than a threat to be dealt with, a killer with no remorse, a faceless terror to be hunted. And it’s not what she is. 

She’s doing her best to forget. Not because it hurts, but because she refuses to believe it’s who she is. She doesn’t want to listen to those whispers, fearful they might be telling of her soul in ways she never wants to know. 

Come to think of it, she’s not even sure that was the first. 

But the memory is hazy and she lets it slip through her grasp like sand.


End file.
